A Flight of Arrows A.J. MacKenzie (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

therefore, according to the laws of war, they could expect no mercy.

The laws of war, thought the herald. Of all the falsehoods that had been perpetrated by humanity, the notion that wars had laws that must be obeyed was surely one of the most cynical.

Roger Mortimer raised his visor and wiped the sweat from his face. ‘Stupid bastards. There were only a few hundred of them, they never had a chance. Why did they come out to fight us?’

‘Orders, of course,’ said Warwick. ‘They were sacrificed to slow us down so the main French army could keep up with us. Is there any news of the adversary? Is he still moving?’

‘His men halted at Airaines to plunder our baggage, as we knew they would,’ said Thomas Holland. ‘That won’t distract them for long, though. They will be marching again soon.’

‘And the king? Any word from him?’

The king had ridden north with a strong party to reconnoitre the walls of Abbeville, in the faint hope that a coup might be possible. The Earl of Salisbury shook his head. ‘A messenger came back a few minutes ago. The walls are high and thick and the ramparts are full of troops. His Grace is retiring to join the main body.’

Warwick turned to John Grey. ‘A night attack? You pulled it off at La Roche-Guyon.’

Grey shook his head. ‘The defenders of La Roche-Guyon were few, and they were not expecting an assault. Abbeville sounds like the exact opposite. Is there any word about this ford?’

‘Lord Rowton is searching for it now,’ Warwick said.

The smoke from Oisemont continued to rise, choking off the sun. One of Warwick’s esquires rode up, flipping up the visor of his bascinet. ‘Flag of truce approaching, my lord.’

‘Again? Who is it? Montjoie, come to gloat?’

‘No, my lord. It is Bohemia’s herald.’

Warwick looked at Merrivale. ‘Go and see what he wants.’

Vilém Zajíc sat on his horse in the middle of a field of stubble, looking at the smoke and the corpses with disapproval. ‘Such a waste,’ he said as Merrivale rode up. ‘There is no honour in slaughtering peasants.’

‘Oh? Would your master agree with you?’

‘His Grace has slaughtered many peasants in his day, but always for expediency. Never for honour.’

‘It is the same with us. These men were trying to slow us down and prevent us from reaching our destination.’

Zajíc raised his eyebrows. ‘And what is your destination? The sea? Are you planning to swim back to England?’

‘Perhaps. Do you have a message for my king?’

‘I do. It comes from his Grace the most serene and puissant Jean, King of Bohemia and Count of Luxembourg. He challenges your King Edward to single combat. The outcome will determine who is victorious in this campaign, and who is the loser.’

Merrivale raised his eyebrows. ‘King Jean is challenging King Edward to a joust?’

‘Exactly so. His Grace bids me add also that he knows he is the older man, and blind in both eyes, but even so he is a more noble warrior and skilled master of arms than Edward Plantagenet will ever be. Therefore, if Edward Plantagenet refuses to meet him, King Jean will know that he is afraid and wishes to avoid defeat. His fear will be understandable, although of course,’ Zajíc added, ‘it will also show that he is a dishonourable man and not fit to wear his crown.’

‘I see,’ said Merrivale. ‘You realise that my king will be greatly offended by these words.’

Zajíc smiled. ‘That is my lord’s intention,’ he said. ‘Now, to more important business. The Count of Vaud and Signor Doria have agreed to meet you. Signor Grimaldi also.’

‘Where and when?’

‘In two days’ time, at compline. They will be in the cloister of Saint-Pierre, outside the walls of Abbeville. You will be expected. Your herald’s tabard will identify you, but the count sends you a laissez-passer in case there are difficulties.’ Zajíc reached inside his own tabard and brought out a small parchment roll tied with a blue ribbon.

‘It seems a long time to wait,’ Merrivale said.

‘Count Louis is here, but his troops are a long way behind, still marching up from the south. He has four thousand men, and he wants them at his back before he makes his next move.’ Zajíc paused for a moment. ‘I am curious. Aren’t you going to ask what we are offering you?’

‘Does it matter?’ asked Merrivale. ‘Clearly you want my services. If the conspiracy is successful, I can name my price. And if it fails, it will not matter.’

Acheux, five miles south of the Somme, 23rd of August, 1346

Evening

‘We might be able to take Abbeville,’ the king said. Like most of the men around him, he was still in full armour, the gold leopards on his surcoat angry in the firelight. ‘But it would cost too many men and take too much time. The adversary is close at hand. Long before we could storm the town and get our men and the remaining wagons over the bridge, the whole French army would be upon us.’

He looked at the circle of men who had gathered on the side of a low hill above the village of Acheux. ‘I had considered trying to capture one of the seaports, Saint-Valery perhaps, in hopes of finding enough ships to take us home. But Godefroi reconnoitred the place this morning and saw no ships there.’

‘The adversary will have ordered all ships dispersed elsewhere, to prevent us from seizing them,’ said Warwick.

‘Doubtless,’ said the king. ‘And to save you saying it, Thomas, yes, it is a damned pity we ordered the fleet home earlier this summer. Huntingdon and his ships would have been quite useful right now. However, there it is.’

He turned to Rowton. ‘The Blanchetaque. Have you found it?’

Rowton looked down at his feet for a moment, then back up at the king. ‘No, sire,’ he said steadily. ‘I have not. I have failed you.’

Another monarch might have been furious, Merrivale thought, but Edward merely nodded. ‘Never mind, Eustace. You did your best.’

Rowton shook